An Uneven Reality
by forestFIRE
Summary: It’s impossible, they tell her, you’re insane, Loony. Don’t encourage me, she wants to say to them.


An Uneven Reality

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Luna or Blaise.

**Summary: **_It's impossible_, they tell her, _you're insane, Loony._ Don't encourage me, she wants to say to them.

--

She sits against the tree trunk, legs haphazardly placed in what must have been an uncomfortable position—yet nothing of the dreamy face shows anything but of absolute calm. Her eyes trail on the impediments on the horizon, the mountains and thick forest blocking the line she's always longed to reach. _It's impossible_, they tell her, _you're insane, Loony._

Don't encourage me, she wants to say to them.

"Luna?" She doesn't say a word; she wants to test him to see if he'll look, not turn around and leave like all the others. His voice twists and turns from all different angles—she tries to imagine sound waves bouncing off bark and stone. It comes closer, until she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"Hello Luna," Blaise says, his eyes following her hand twisting in her blonde locks. She glances at him, and she's never seen anything more real. It's no longer a dream for her; she knows that if she reaches for him, he won't fade into a million pieces.

He doesn't take offense at her silence and sits next to her. "How are you today?"

Cocking her head to one side, she says, "Is there a correct answer to that question? Wonderful is a lie, horrible is an offense. Okay is merely a figment of an imagination." He laughs loudly, and she can feel the rumbling in his chest.

"I take it you aren't a 'shades of grey' person?"

She wonders if he really cares about her answer.

When she doesn't respond, he opens his mouth but closes it after a few moments. She doesn't know how long they both sit against that tree trunk, silent and drowning in their own thoughts. But it's then that she begins to see someone in Blaise that she wants to meet. After all, he's the only one who's ever stayed.

"You're still here." She states, her eyes still fixed on the horizon.

He gazes at her and says, "You're cool, Luna." It surprises her, and she swivels toward him in anything but her normal smooth motions.

"Why do you say that? Lies help no one, you know." She replies, watching his expression carefully. It doesn't betray anything, not a twitch or a flip of a smile.

Blaise says sharply, "Don't say that. You're not like the rest of them, that's all."

"Do _you_ believe in conformity?"

"Of course not—what fun would the world be then?" He asks her.

She doesn't say anything for a while. To tell the honest truth, she's never met anyone who _listens_ to her bantering. They all look away; how can they believe that she's so odd that she can't hear them?

The laughter, she thinks, hurts the most.

Blaise asks, "Life's a lemon, eh?" He's trying too hard.

"Life isn't a fruit." She doesn't break her gaze toward him. He doesn't appear bothered or deterred in the least.

"I think this is a start of a beautiful relationship," he declares. Relationship—she notes the word. It leaves room for something more. She shifts slightly; is he _interested_ in her?

She asks him outright, "Relationship?" Blaise's eyes widen comically, and she struggles to not laugh. It's not every day that you see the normally conceited and cocky Slytherin surprised.

"Er…I meant friendship," he corrects himself hastily.

Tilting her head to one side, she tells him, "Before my mother died, she told me that anything that came out of a person's mouth first was what they really meant." She notes the almost _blush_ on his face.

He breathes in a few times. "What I'm…trying to say is that…"

"That?"

"That…I sort of…fancy you." Blaise turns away, and she's surprised by him once more. How many people have truly surprised her, she wonders.

She says the first thing that comes to thought. "Thank you." It's her turn to blush now—what girl would reply to a declaration from _Blaise Zabini_ with a "thank you." He laughs loudly. It ceases, and she sees his face looming closer. From close up, she sees that Blaise's face isn't perfect. But it melds together into a picture that she never wants to forget.

Slowly, she smells mint and cologne comes closer, until it touches her lips. Her eyes are wide open, her hands hanging awkwardly from her shoulders. There's teeth clanging at first, tongues nervously slipping into unknown territory, and hands in unusual positions.

Somehow, it comes together.

She falls onto her back, and Blaise covers her world. He won't smother her, she knows, he won't ever tell her she's wrong or weird.

They come up for air, and he gazes at her in a way that no one's ever given her. It's the look of lovers, the undisguised lust with something cloudy behind it.

Everything's invisible—the world around them could fall to pieces for all she knows.

_Fall to pieces..._

And nothing matters anymore.


End file.
